Fear of Happiness
by MystryGAB
Summary: This one-shot takes place during the Season 7 episode, A Pox On Our House. Perhaps fighting for happiness is better than fighting against it.


_Inspired from a conversation with a very dear friend, this one-shot takes place during the Season 7 episode, __**A Pox On Our House. **__Perhaps fighting __for __happiness is better than fighting against it._

_I hope you enjoy! Special thanks to all who have reviewed my stories. You are all gracious and greatly appreciated._

_Disclaimer: Obviously I'm not connected with David Shore or the Show. I just enjoy exploring the possibilities instead of wash, rinse and repeat._

**Fear of Happiness**

_From the episode __**A Pox On Our House**_

_Cuddy: You lied to my face._

House: To do my job, to save a patient's life. Look, I don't want to go all Godfather on you. This was business. I wouldn't lie to you about something personal.

Cuddy : Well, you don't get to lie to me about anything. I can't compartmentalize my life like that.

House: Well, maybe you should practice, 'cause it comes in handy.

Cuddy: I think you should go.

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

"Go away!" House yelled from the kitchen.

He was on his second beer, making a sandwich, and in no mood for company. Not that it was company at the door; although it could be. He could easily call a hooker and have company for the night. But he'd given up hookers for Cuddy! Not that it hadn't been worth it. She was his world. She was all he wanted.

There was another knock on the door and House swore.

He was in a shitty mood. He didn't want company. Not even Wilson, who probably pulled himself away from Sam for the night to come and lecture him about relationships and trust. As if his relationship with Sam was a shining example of a healthy relationship! Then again, Sam was still having sex with Wilson!

Another knock. "Dammit!"

House limped heavily toward the door. He just wanted to be left alone. If this was a Jehovah's Witness he would shove the track up their ass!

Slinging the door open with more force than necessary, he was surprised to see Cuddy standing in the doorway. God she was beautiful.

"Am I interrupting something?" She asked with a haughty tone and arched brow.

"Thought you were the pimp," he quipped. "He was pissed when I didn't pay the last hooker the full amount. She just couldn't blow like you."

Cuddy glared at him. She knew he was angry and lashing out. He was as hurt and confused as she had been with this sudden roadblock in their relationship. Things had been going so well, and suddenly it was all falling apart, and neither of them were handling it well.

"Perhaps you shouldn't be such an ass and you'd get better responses," she suggested and pushed by him into the apartment.

House followed her with his eyes as he closed the door behind him.

"Then I'd be lying," he said. "And we wouldn't want that!"

Cuddy tossed her purse onto the chair and turned to look him straight in the eyes.

"I have some things to say," she said. "And you need to listen."

House rolled his eyes. "Great! I love these intimate conversations."

Cuddy didn't respond, but glared at him for so long he began to feel uncomfortable.

"Do you love me, House?"

"Don't," he said on a sigh. "Don't turn this into…"

"Are you happy with me?" she asked.

House stared at her. She wasn't angry as much as determined. He was just puzzled.

"You know I am," he answered softly.

Her eyes searched his face. She wanted to memorize this expression, to imprint it on her brain. His eyes were gentle, almost beseeching as he silently asked for her to believe him, believe in him. There's no way she could ever doubt the depth of his feelings for her when he let his guard down and looked at her this way.

"I know you are," she said. "I really felt it yesterday when we made love. I felt more connected to you than I'd ever felt. I was happy, and safe, and hopeful… I know you felt it too."

His eyes seemed to glaze over at the memory. He had felt it. It had been as profound for him as it had been for her. "It was amazing," he whispered.

Cuddy held up her hand to stop him. "Just listen," she gently demanded and reached out to take his hand, guiding him to the sofa so they could sit together.

"You're happy with me and you love me," she said. "But you don't trust those feelings because you've only known those feelings to come with pain and disappointment. You believe those things always bring betrayal, and most often a betrayal that leaves you lost or broken."

House turned away uncomfortably and Cuddy squeezed his hand in hers. "Your father's love came with physical abuse, you mother's love came with turning a blind eye to your pain and fears," she pushed forward, knowing this wasn't a conversation he would welcome or even in which he'd participate. But it was a conversation they needed to have. These were things he needed to hear.

"When you were happy in a place, your family moved. When you found your place in med school, you were expelled. When you trusted in love and happiness, you ended up with a muscle missing from your thigh."

"There's no reason to rehash this, Cuddy," House fell against the back of the sofa and stared forward. He was like a kid pouting because he was forced to endure a lecture. It almost made her want to smile. "You've known about my aversion to happiness all along. I do better with misery."

"Yes," she agreed. "It's what you know, what you feel comfortable with. You know what to expect and how to respond. It's the unknowns that are uncomfortable."

"Why are we talking about this?" He asked, starting to fidget. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with why you lied to me."

"I've always lied to you, Cuddy," he retorted with a sigh of exasperation. "You act like this is something new, or that it's something that should have been excavated from me when I got between your legs, but that's not the way it works."

"Very nice," she rolled her eyes at him.

"It's true."

"No it's not," she argued, but immediately shook her head. "Okay, it's partly true. You are a liar and always have been."

Cuddy turned to face him fully as she tried to explain. "You have always lied to me, and yet you've always left clues to uncover your lies. You always knew I'd figure out the lie and then you were prepared to let me know in some infuriating and patronizing way that you were lying for the greater good. This time you left out the clues and the condescending heroism. You didn't lie and demand my trust. You just lied. And I can't help but wonder why. Why when we've been so happy would you choose to disrupt the foundation we've built over the years, to negate the trust we have in each other? We've always trusted each other to do the right thing even when it looked wrong. Why would you want to destroy that now?"

House frowned at her, but considered her words.

"I'm not angry that you lied to save the patient, House," she said. "I'm angry that you changed your lying MO and sabotaged our relationship!"

He was shocked.

"Sabotaged our relationship?" _Was she serious?_ "I didn't sabotage our relationship!"

"You've been happy, and yesterday you felt loved. For the first time since we got together, you felt safe." Cuddy looked fixedly at him. "And you panicked."

His eyes were quickly shifting back and forth over her face with both confusion and anxiety.

"With happiness and love comes pain," she said, and shrugged as she explained his way of thinking. "If it's inevitable, why not make sure it happens on your terms? Why not make sure you're in control?"

"That's insane."

"It's pretty screwed up," she agreed.

House let out a deep sigh. "You think you've got it all figured out."

"I think you used the situation with your patient to orchestrate an argument that you could time and predict, and maybe even control on some levels," she said. "I have no doubt you weighed the options and even struggled with it. But in the end, your knee jerk reaction was to play the puppet master and control your destiny. You chose to control the pain before it snuck up on you and did more damage than you could handle."

He considered her words. Could she be right? When he'd been in the floor of his office contemplating how he should move forward, he'd been considering two options: save the patient's life and lying to Cuddy, or let the patient die by abiding by the rules. He'd never considered other options. That in itself was strange. He solved puzzles by looking at every angle, considering all of the grey areas. Yet this time he'd only looked at the black and white. His behavior was an anomaly.

"How many times over the years have you come in and outlined a hypothetical situation, or built some metaphor that explained how things would play out in a way that would save the patient while protecting me and the hospital?"

House closed his eyes as he began to understand what she was saying. He was a renegade. He broke rules, ignored regulations, and violated policies at every turn. But when it was serious, when it really mattered to the safety and security of Cuddy's job and the hospital, he found a way to keep her in the loop. Granted, it was always from a distance and often with her wearing blinders, but she would know he was up to something. Keeping her in the know, while ensuring an equal amount of ignorance was how they managed to work the system and save lives. It was their way. It was how they protected each other.

"You're happy," Cuddy spoke softly as she repeated her earlier words. "You're starting to believe we might actually work. The thought of something ripping that away from you is not something you want to face. So you lied. You didn't throw me a safety net. You didn't allow yourself remorse. You pushed me away again. Just like you did with the so-called massage therapist."

She watched the movement of his jaw beneath his cheek as he began to grind his teeth. "I get it, House. I understand why you did it. I do," she said. "But I don't want us to be chained by the pain and patterns of our past. I don't want you to push me away and hurt me because you're afraid of being happy. And I don't want to slap you down, and discourage you when you mess up. I don't want to be like my mother and only focus on the bad things."

The tears were pooling in her eyes as she watched the emotions pass over his face.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered.

"I know you don't," she said. "And I don't want to hurt you. I want us to be happy, like we were yesterday morning when you held me in your arms, when nothing mattered but us."

House swallowed hard. He remembered how good it felt to be with her, cocooned in her bedroom. They were hidden from the world, protected from the demands and the stresses of life. It was as if they breathed each other, and with each breath was peace.

"I want this to work, House," she said. "More than anything, I want this to work. But you can't keep pushing me away. You can't keep doing the same thing and expecting a different result. At some point you need change the pattern and try something new. Instead of pushing me away when you feel happy, you need take my hand and let me fight those fears with you." Cuddy looked down and away from him as a tear rolled down her cheek. "And I need to be more forgiving and understanding when you mess up. I need to be a better partner to you. Not some demanding wench that makes you feel like you can't do anything right."

Cuddy stood up suddenly and looked down at him. His gut clenched as he saw the trail of tears down her cheeks; his heart clenched when he realized she was leaving.

"Things have to change, House," she said. "I need you to think about us. I know you're afraid you'll curse it, or it will slip through your fingers, but I need you to decide how hard you'll work to build a life with me."

Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. "I see things as they could be, but you see things as they are. I see point A and B, but you see the truth of the roadblocks and detours along the way. I need you to help me navigate this, but you need me to be your hope. You need to decide if we're worth leaving our past behind to create a future we deserve."

She leaned down and brushed her lips against his, touching her forehead to his for a moment before turning to leave.

"I love you," he said with a husky voice.

She smiled at him. "I love you too," she said. "That's not our problem."

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

The CDC was called in to manage the quarantine and treatment of House's patient. They thought he had smallpox. House was convinced she didn't. But then the patient's father fell ill, and Broda, the case manager of the CDC, locked down the area. Then House had broken into the rooms to test a theory – that had proven wrong – only to be quarantined himself. The day was a total disaster.

Cuddy had sat with him for a while, talking to him through the glass. She'd asked about symptoms, and he'd teased her about the pettiness of her being upset with him for lying when he faced death. They'd made light of the situation, and didn't even reference the conversation from the night before. At this point, how could they think about how to plan and map their future when he could die in just a few days?

She was scared. He was too, even though he was working hard not to show it. Watching the father say goodbye to his wife and son was hard. It was terrifying. Cuddy had been pushing Foreman and the team not to give up on the DDX, fighting with the CDC to move House to another quarantine area, and calling everyone she knew to find some way to stop the situation from snowballing any further. But if House had exposed himself to smallpox, how could she save him?

Just last night she'd been asking him to consider their future, to help her fight for it. Less than twenty-four hour later, she wasn't sure they'd even have a future. She wanted to cry; she wanted to throw something. She wanted to do something, to change something. She didn't want to be so powerless.

Cuddy stared out the window behind her desk. It was raining. How appropriate.

"Dr. Cuddy?" She heard Masters timid voice coming from the door, and closed her eyes.

_No! Please don't let this be bad news. I can't lose him._

"We figured it out," she said, and Cuddy jerked around to look at her. "It's R-pox."

Masters followed close behind her, explaining everything in detail, as she rushed out of her office and through the hospital corridors.

House was going to live. They would have that future.

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

Cuddy sank deeper into the bathtub, relaxing into the warm water and bubbles.

House was being treated with Doxycyclin and had been trapped at the hospital meeting with the CDC. They were demanding he do a post-mortem on the case and complete all of the paperwork before he left. She grinned at the thought. This time he couldn't pawn his paperwork off on the team. It would have been funnier if it hadn't meant their breakfast plans were interrupted. As it was, she hadn't been able to talk with House all day, much less hold him, or kiss him, or tell him how empty her life would be if she lost him.

"For a Dean of Medicine, you are one hot mama," his voice startled her and she jumped, splashing some of the water over the side of the tub.

He was leaning against the door jam, grinning at her.

"For a pain in the ass diagnostician with R-pox, you're pretty hot yourself," she quipped, grinning back at him.

"I probably should tell you my girlfriend wants to plan our future," he said, slowly walking into the bathroom as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Cuddy shook her head. "What a demanding bitch!"

"Nah," he disagreed. "She's a control freak. She thinks too much, worries about everything, and sees possibility in hopeless situations."

Cuddy watched him unbuckle his belt.

"You love her."

"She's my world," he said, and dropped his pants. "And she's got my number."

House considered whether to crawl into the tub behind her, to hold her against his chest and relax with her, or sit across from her, facing her so they could talk. He wanted to hold her, but they needed to talk.

He carefully lowered himself into the water as Cuddy curled her legs up and away from him.

"This is a ball burner bath," he growled, grabbing one of her feet and beginning to massage it.

"I thought you liked it hot."

"Hot," he said. "Not cooked."

Cuddy laughed.

"You were right," he softly said. "About everything."

Cuddy eased down lower into the water, enjoying the feel of his fingers kneading the sole of her foot and massaging its way up her calf.

"It's a habit, you know? When I push you away."

His eyes were focused on the movement of his hands, but Cuddy could tell he was carefully measuring his words.

"I know," she answered.

"I've been doing it a long time.

"I know."

"It's almost instinctive now."

"I know."

He glared at her. Was she going to keep repeating that like some kind of parrot or participate in this conversation?

"You want to give me a blow job and ride me into tomorrow," he stated as a matter of fact.

"I know," she repeated again, and smiled. It was a radiant, flirtatious and sassy. She was enjoying him.

"I sat on this side of the tub so we could have a serious talk," he pretended to reprimand her. "You're making it hard."

Cuddy moved her other foot along his thigh and moved her toes lightly along his crotch.

"Not yet," she replied. "But we'll get there."

He released a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a growl, and grabbed her by the legs to pull her toward him. She held him by the shoulders as he guided her legs around him so she could straddle him.

"I'll fight for us," he said. "I'll fight the past. I promise."

Cuddy ran her hands along his temple and hairline.

"I'll never stop fighting for you," she promised. "You're mine."

"Ooh, I like possessive Cuddy." He wagged his eyebrows.

She found herself drowning in the clear blue eyes that smiled at her. He was happy.

Cuddy moved her hands along his jaw, tracing the line of his beard.

"Do I have to take your hand when I get afraid?" He asked. "Because I can think of much better body parts to grab."

"Will you always be afraid?"

"I don't know." The raw honesty of his words was reflected in his eyes.

She nodded her head in understanding, and he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. He ran his hands up her back, and hugged her close.

Then he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, just a breath and a stroke of the tongue before pulling back to look at her. His hands dropped to cup her rear.

"Sometimes when I'm holding my hope, I see the future," he said. "And I'm not afraid at all."

Cuddy ran her fingers along the edge of his mouth, tracing the line of his lower lip.

"Who's hope?" she asked with feigned innocence.

House pinched her rear and Cuddy yelped. They were both grinning, enjoying the playfulness of the moment.

"I'm glad you didn't die," she said.

"Me too," he answered. "But there is a certain part of me that wants to be buried."

Cuddy let out a throaty laugh and wriggled her hips.

"I've got just the place."


End file.
